There's No Way Getting Out
by jewishushanka
Summary: He's surrounded by pills - and that seems to be the problem.
1. Chapter 1

He could feel his eyes beginning to slowly close and the only thought he could properly produce was 'Don't land in my food.'

If Stan hadn't gone through his prescription of Adderall as fast as he had, he wouldn't be dozing off like he was. All feeling was lost in his hands so Stan couldn't grasp the lunch table in time to hold himself up and within seconds, he was falling and his consciousness gave out.

* * *

"Oh Jesus Christ! You're pathetic, Stan."

Looking down at his friend who just face planted into his tray of lunch, Kyle sighed loudly in disbelief. He knew why Stan was having trouble staying awake the last few days, and he could only shake his head at the thought. He used his prescription to get high instead of the true intention - help his narcolepsy - and sometimes Kyle wondered why he stuck beside his best friend.

After a few seconds passed by, Stan lifted his head, then started clutching and unclutching his hands as he did so.

"I have no idea how the hell I'm going to get through this week." He muttered.

Kyle took notice of a small smudge of marinara sauce on Stan's forehead. Cringing at the thought of the semi-hot sauce on skin, Kyle quickly grabbed a napkin and wiped it off. In the same motion, he tossed the used napkin across the table watching it land near the edge. He caught Stan with a smirk on his face, knowing Kyle had a problem with the possibility of getting anything messy on his hands.

"Maybe if you didn't abuse the medication that's supposed to _help_ you..."

"Oh fuck off, Kyle."

After regaining full control of both hands, Stan gripped his lunch tray then stood up from the table. Without second glance, he left - leaving Kyle to dig out a travel-size hand sanitizer to apply to his hands around three or so times.

* * *

Melatonin was suppose to help regulate Stan's sleep cycles but it wasn't doing a damned thing, and that was probably because Stan didn't take the proper dosage. He always took less than needed and that was due to the fact he took more Adderall than necessary.

Sitting on the nightstand next to him was the half empty bottle of Xyrem. Half empty because he often shared the pills with Craig who was sitting next to Stan at the moment. He could hardly move a muscle - his cataplexy totally acting up. So Stan laid on his back, with his eyes on Craig and listened to the music blasting from his phone speaker. He couldn't help but admire Craig's long eyelashes and the way they kissed his cheeks every time he blinked. Just under his left eye was a small mole. On many occasions Stan liked to plant a soft kiss on the spot, which he wanted to do right now but couldn't.

He could feel his eyes beginning to close - his vision of Craig slowly blurring.

"You're passing out..."

Stan knew this and yet he couldn't even reply. Most of the time when he began to doze off, Stan's capacity to speak weakened and he had to just wait until it passed.

"Take a few seconds - I'll be here when you wake up."

Stan was the only one who saw this side of Craig. The side that wasn't so misanthropic and stoic. It was nice to have that Craig to himself... almost as nice as the few peaceful seconds of sleep Stan would indulge in.

* * *

Just as promised, Craig was right by his side when Stan woke up. But before he could see with his own eyes, he had to wait for the blackness his vision granted to fade away. It was yet another complication that came with his narcolepsy, but Stan's been dealing with the disorder since age eleven so he was used to it at this point.

When his eyesight came back and full range of moving his limbs, Stan attempted to sit up - his body aching from the dead plank position it's been stuck in. But he stopped when Craig began to crawl over him and their faces were just inches away. With not even one glance of proper eye contact, Craig's chapped lips touched Stan's.

He smelled strongly of marijuana... a habit Craig has had since he was around thirteen. Stan usually never participated whenever Craig would roll a blunt, but just the smell was inviting enough by then.

Moaning softly against the other's lips, Stan very gently lifted his hips and rolled them on Craig's thigh. A breathy sigh was released, Craig opening his mouth wider for easier access. A raging hard-on was already forming in Stan's pants and Craig could definitely feel it against his thigh. Slightly gasping, he pulled away then rolled over to lay beside Stan.

Groaning loudly, Stan sat up. "You're gonna have to get over this soon, dude."

"Whatever." Avoiding eye contact - or any direct contact with Stan for that matter - Craig nonchalantly lifted an opened hand. "Hand me a couple Xyrem will 'ya."

* * *

Tuesday couldn't have come any sooner. The entire week Stan struggled to stay awake in his classes and on some occasions even passed out while in mid-walk. But now today was the day he received a refill of Adderall and he skipped school for it.

At around 9:30, Stan received a text from Kyle who reminded him not to indulge the second he got the pills. Shrugging the advice off immediately, he slipped his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and walked outside where Craig was waiting for him in his beat-up Toyota. Giving a small wave, Stan couldn't help but notice the black, aviator shades that sat on the bridge of Craig's nose and he could only assume he was high.

Rolling down the window, Craig called out. "Hurry up and get in, Stanley."

He hardly used his full name but whenever he did, Stan could feel himself quickly being turned on. Without a second thought, he ran around to the other side of the Toyota and got in. As soon as the passenger door shut, the car pulled into reverse and began to back out of the driveway.

"You gonna let me hit some as soon as you get it?"

Stan turned towards Craig, who's eyes were fixated on the road. "Aren't you already high?"

"Yeah - but it's already beginning to wear off."

"...Well. I guess."

* * *

By a quarter after ten, both Craig and Stan were sitting on a bench at Stark's Pond with Stan leaning lazily against the other. The aviator shades were now hanging by the front of Craig's shirt and it took everything within Stan not to rip them off with the baggy, black t-shirt on his torso. Breathing in the strong scent of marijuana and generic bar soap, Stan leaned closer to Craig - to the point he was nuzzling the crook of his neck and murmuring nonsense against the soft skin.

"Dammit, Stan. Knock it off."

And he did. Pulling away, Stan then reached into the pocket of his jacket to grab yet another Adderall. He could feel Craig's eyes watching him as he dry swallowed the pill, but he ignored him, his own eyes planted on the pond before them.

* * *

"What the hell are you doing here, Stan?"

Opening his eyes, Stan glanced over to Kyle who looked like he just got home from school. Behind black rimmed glasses, Stan could see the anger in Kyle's hazel eyes. Laughing slightly, Stan sat up to a cross-legged position.

"Hey Kyle."

The redhead dropped his school bag and ran a hand through his mass of loose curls.

"Don't 'hey Kyle' me. What the hell are you doing here in my room when no one is even home and..." Stopping in mid-sentence, Kyle reached out and knocked his knuckles on the nearest wall three times. "Jesus Christ, you look high Stan! What did I tell you?"

Stan let out another small laugh, "I only took like... four, chill."

"You're unbelievable, Stan. Really. How long you think this month's going to last? A week - maybe two? Well shit. I bet it was also Craig who convinced you. I told you he's a bad influence."

"Fuck you, Kyle. Craig has nothing to do with this. You have absolutely no clue why I do it because you dropped me the second you found out I got off on my Xyrem. If anything, Craig has helped me numb the fucking pain. So fuck you."

Kyle quickly rapped three more times on the wall. "You won't let me in, Stan. You never let me in and the moment Craig becomes a part of your life you tell him fucking everything and you become a fucking pill head. Maybe if you told me, I'd understand why the hell you're doing this."

"Right." Stan grunted. Then he got up from the bed and started to make his way towards the bedroom door but stopped the second the muscles in his legs froze. And suddenly, Stan collapsed to the floor.

* * *

Five minutes. That's all he was paralyzed for but it felt more like five hours. After the dead feeling went away, Stan continued to lay on the ground except he grasped Kyle's hand within his own and silently began counting the freckles that covered his friend's skin.

"I ran out of Xyrem the other day..." He whispered into the silence.

Stan watched as Kyle closed his eyes, took notice of how his breathing was heavy and slightly irregular. Looking back down to their linked hands, Stan quickly pulled back muttering a small 'sorry'.

"You know you could seriously get hurt with your cataplexy acting up as much as it is... I worry about you, Stanley."

He didn't get the same kind of reaction he did when Kyle used his full name. With him, Stan couldn't help but feel guilt in the pit of his stomach. They've been friends since grade school but over the last few months they've grown further apart. And it isn't something Stan is proud of.

"Fuck cataplexy."

Kyle let out a laugh that sounded more like a huffed sigh. "That's one way to go about it."

Lightly Stan rubbed the top of Kyle's hand with his thumb. In the corner of his eye, he noticed Kyle tense and Stan knew his heartbeat was off the charts - but that didn't stop him.

"You used to be fine when I touched you. What changed..?"

It took him awhile to reply and before doing so, Kyle knocked on the floor three times. "Too many months of you not doing it..."

Sighing Stan pulled away. He wasn't happy with his relationship with Kyle at the moment, but it was going to take sometime to get back to where they were.

* * *

Kenny McCormick sat mere inches away from Stan. A blunt in hand, he held it for Stan while the other took a long hit. Anyone could tell Stan didn't smoke much by the way he coughed after release.

The whole room smelled like bud and plenty of smoke wavered about. Sitting right next to Stan with their knees touching was Craig. He was only dressed in a wife-beater and basketball shorts and that surprised Stan. Normally Craig didn't like to show off his body and the fact that he was wearing a tight fitted top was just odd. It showed curves Craig never wanted to be seen and Stan couldn't help but stare.

It was Craig's turn to take a hit. He took a long, slow drag all while he gave a side glance to Stan. Pulling the blunt back, Craig tilted his head upward releasing several smoke rings. Stan was always amazed whenever Craig did it even though he does about every time he smokes. Seconds later Kenny followed making his own smoke rings and Stan grabbed the half smoked blunt.

"Christ, you're so attractive when you smoke, Stan." Craig whispered lightly in his ear.

The comment caught him off guard and Stan even dropped the blunt - which resulted in Kenny bitching at him. Raising his eyes to Craig, Stan questioned whether he heard him right. It was very rare for Craig to compliment him. In all, Stan was flabbergasted.

While Kenny kept taking hits one after the other, Stan placed one hand on Craig's knee, leaning closer to him. Then in a short breath his lips met the others. It only took a small moment for things to get heated and Stan could feel Kenny watching the whole time.

Opening his mouth, Stan felt as Craig's tongue ran across his own. It tasted like syrup and smoke and Stan moaned loudly. A touch was gently placed to the bulge growing in his pants. This was one of those rare occasions Craig actually went further than making out and it only made Stan harder. Slowly, he began to kiss Craig down from his jaw to the crook of his neck. Catching a small amount of skin between his teeth he bit down causing Craig to cry out. The sound was like music to his ears and Stan lightly blew on the spot. Another cry sounded swiftly. The hand Stan still had on Craig's knee was gripped tightly and in one motion, it was lead to the top of Craig's basketball shorts. Stopping abruptly, Stan pulled off and stared right into the brown of Craig's eyes. He could tell he was worried, but also that Craig trusted him.

Just as Stan was about to place another kiss to the other's lips, and his fingertips grazed the inside of the shorts, a breathy moan sounded followed by an 'Oh shit'. Whipping his head back quickly, Stan came into view of Kenny - dick in hand and obviously enjoying what he witnessed.

Slapping away Stan's hand, Craig then stood up and kicked Kenny roughly in the leg.

"You're fucking disgusting, McCormick."

* * *

Kyle didn't go to school that day - in fact - it's the third day in a row Kyle hasn't shown up. Which meant Stan was stuck sitting by himself at lunch. For those short thirty minutes... Stan fell asleep.

He hasn't been sleeping well the past few nights. He's been trying to save his Melatonin for when he really needed it and now wasn't the time. So that moment Stan fell asleep was like heaven to him. He slept with his head placed in his crossed over arms, cradled nicely in the somewhat comfort his sweatshirt provided. It helped that Stan sat towards the back of the cafeteria, that way he had less chances of people fucking with him. And he was totally oblivious when Wendy Testaburger came to sit across from Stan until it was at least two minutes before lunch was over.

She sat with a small compact mirror in hand checking for possible food stuck in her teeth. Mascara clumped in the corners of her eyes and it was the only thing Stan could focus on while his vision adjusted.

Tucking the mirror back into her purse, the school bell rung and Wendy stood up but waited until Stan did the same.

"I'm looking for something to get me high, Stan. Bebe told me you lent her some Adderall a while back."

"Too bad I'm not lending any out now."

Wendy narrowed her eyebrows. "And just why the hell not? I'll even pay you."

Stan shook his head. "I need it. My narcolepsy has been kicking my ass lately and don't even get me started on the cataplexy - so yes, that's a no to Xyrem as well. The best I could do is give you a few Melatonin tomorrow, but it won't do much."

"You've gotta be kidding me, Stanley! I need it today and I _know_ you carry Adderall around on you."

She placed a hand on his shoulder, attempting to stop him but Stan simply shrugged her off and faced Wendy, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so.  
"If you need something so bad, Wendy, go to fucking Kenny. I'm not some fucking drug dealer."

"Damn it, don't do this Stan."

"No. _You_ don't do this, Wendy. You're better than this."

He gave one last glance at the girl, eyeing her figure up and down. Even though the two broke up back in junior high, Stan still cared for Wendy. It was one of those feelings he could never shake off.

Wendy seemed pissed overall, but Stan didn't care. He simply walked away - hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and head down.

* * *

Friday turned out to be a lonely night even with Craig sitting right beside Stan in Craig's bed. He was wearing a blue chullo he used to have covering his hair all throughout the years of middle school. During the time when Craig hadn't chopped off all his hair - when he hid the long locks under the hat. Now his hair was shaved on one side and completely messy on the other. Majority of the time, Craig never bothered with the locks. That was how he liked it.

They were laying underneath the comforter hardly saying a word to each other. Just their presence was enough. But all Stan could think about was how Craig was still fully clothed when he stripped down to his briefs and a simple t-shirt hours ago.

"Why don't you at least get out of your..." Stan cleared his throat before continuing. "Top layers."

He drew his attention to the mole under Craig's left eye while he spoke. Stan could tell Craig was nervous - he always was during this part. He gently shifted away so he faced the curtained window and his back turned towards Stan. The light switch was closer to Craig but he didn't bother clicking it off... which definitely seemed out of the ordinary. Normally he liked undressing in the dark, it gave the privacy Craig needed and Stan was fine with that. With his back turned, Craig pulled his hat off and handed it over to the boy behind him. Then - ever so hesitantly - he began to peel his top layers away.

First came the baggy flannel with the torn away sleeves that showed off just how small Craig's arms really were. Following that came the white shirt, whose short sleeves used to peek out from underneath the flannel. Stan took notice of the sweat stains under the sleeves and his eyes never left when the shirt began to be stripped away.

This was always the part Stan felt uncomfortable about, only because he knew Craig would be on the edge of a panic attack during the whole event with his anxiety skyrocketing.

Underneath the t-shirt, Stan tried not to notice the chest binder covering the top half of Craig's torso. He knew the shade of tan was lighter than Craig's skin so when he took a peek at his back and saw all caramel toning, he knew the worst part was over. Craig pulled the white shirt back over his exposed chest and Stan took the chance of carefully leaning forward to place the chullo back over Craig's messy hair. With the hat back in place, Stan wrapped his arms around Craig's stomach, feeling his heartbeat ripple throughout his torso. A kiss was planted right under his left eye on the spot he always liked to kiss... and no words were exchanged afterwards.

* * *

He walked into school Monday wearing a leather jacket which belonged to Craig. It smelled fake and like the laundry detergent Laura Tucker liked to use. But Stan liked it all the same; even with the too snug sleeves.

To his surprise, Kyle stood next to Bebe Stevens at the redhead's locker. Kyle looking more tired than the usual. Bypassing his own locker, Stan strided over to the two - giving a small wave to the blonde and awkwardly standing by Kyle's side.

"Hey Stan." It was Bebe who spoke.

He took notice of the bags under Kyle's eyes and how his clothes appeared to be sloppily put on.

"How are you Kyle?" He spoke in a murmur with a little waver at the end.

Stan watched as his friend's eyes didn't even make proper contact. He took the gesture as though to say he wasn't welcome and simply walked away.

* * *

In his last period, Stan passed out with his head banging loudly on his desk. The noise caused a few kids around him to jump and Tweek Tweak to yelp out. Only a couple seconds passed by before Stan was lifting his head up once more. When the teacher asked if he was all right, Stan couldn't even reply with words which left him to hold his head slightly and nod it up and down. The lecture started back up and all Stan could do was attempt to stay awake for the last thirty minutes of school.

* * *

It was almost like an intervention except with one person... and over the phone.

Stan set his cellphone on his bed with the speaker on. In one hand were mixture of pills; some his own and some he found in the bathroom cabinet. He stared harshly at the pills and focused on the voice on the phone.

"I honestly don't think you're aware of how much this has changed you. It's like I hardly even know you anymore, Stan. And on another note, abusing your medication the way you are is affecting your condition. You could fall asleep at the wrong time and something terrible could happen to you, Stan."

He wrapped his fingers around the several different medications. "But why do you care what happens to me, Kyle?"

There was a slight pause and a long sigh. "We've been friends for years. Why wouldn't I care?"

"You've hardly done anything to stop me."

"Because I know all you would do is bitch about me doing so and more than likely run off to Craig where you'll get even more high."

Silence filled the room for a long amount of time and during then Stan popped one pill in his mouth each time a minute passed by.

"I wanna know why you're doing this to yourself, and I want to help you as much as I can..."

The effect was already beginning to kick in. Stan brought the phone to his lips and spoke softly. "Well you can start by fucking off."

And he swallowed whatever remained in hand.


	2. Chapter 2

_**This fic was originally supposed to only be two chapters, but as I continued to write this I found I couldn't wrap everything up in just part 2, so the chapter after this one, will definitely be the end.**_

 _ **Oh, and also, I've thought about writing a little backstory/prequel revolving around Craig in his middle school days from this verse. Would anyone actually be interested in that?**_

* * *

He laid in bed with his mind wandering a million thoughts per second, waiting for the effect to work. The moment Stan swallowed the rest of the combination pills in hand, he automatically hung up on Kyle, with the redhead still yelling through the speaker.

He thought about calling him back, thought about apologizing to Kyle in attempt to fix their friendship. Stan couldn't even remember when the falling out began... the memory of the other day came to mind. Stan trying to just hold Kyle's hand. His friend was easily on the edge of an anxiety attack - just from their small contact. It hurt Stan. Even if he didn't want to admit it.

He thought about calling Craig - calling and helplessly crying on the phone. The two grew close in the time span of a couple months. Through their many nights of getting high and Stan's various attempts on getting in Craig's pants.

Stan used to despise Craig, back when Craig decided to come out. He couldn't wrap his mind around the whole transgender thing, so he chose to not even try and that basically caused him to ignore Craig majority of the time. They didn't start truly conversing until one night when Kenny decided to invite the both of them over without the other knowing. Stan discovered Craig liked to get as high as he could possibly manage. It entranced him. He wanted to understand why and exactly how it felt to get high.

That night Stan fished out a handful of the Adderall Kenny told him to bring beforehand. Staring at the pills, he split half with Craig... and that turned out to be his first night truly feeling alive.

They laid on Kenny's dirty and disgusting carpet - Stan on his stomach and Craig on his back staring ahead at the ceiling covered in various posters of naked girls. Within seconds, Stan was spilling out his emotions to the other. He went into detail about how he felt he couldn't talk to anyone about this. How he dreamt of killing himself to end the suffering he's endured for months now. That he couldn't imagine continuing on drowning in his depression with no way getting out. And throughout everything, surprisingly enough, Craig didn't say a word. Not to object nor to make any sort of comment.

They forgot Kenny was even in the room. To them, the blonde didn't mean a thing. In their eyes, it was like Kenny completely disappeared from his own bedroom.

With Craig still laying on his back, his eyes now closed because he was just enjoying his high, Stan took the chance to push himself up on his elbows then lower his face until it hovered just a few inches above Craig's. He thought about kissing him. He thought about it until he forgot all together why he wanted to do so in the first place, but eventually Stan _did_ kiss Craig and it resulted in Craig violently pushing the other off. Stan tumbled backwards, losing whatever grip he held to hold himself up and a laugh erupted from behind - Kenny reaffirming his presence.

Stan continued to think about calling Craig. It sounded a hell of a lot better than calling Kyle. So he quickly went to grab his cellphone, punching in Craig's number and held the phone to his ear to wait for Craig to answer.

There was a groan the moment he picked up. "Why the fuck are you calling so late Stan?"

Stan took notice of how much more feminine Craig's voice sounded over the phone. Very rarely did they call each other, so this revelation sort of flipped Stan out.

When he took the courage to actually respond back, Stan's voice was no louder than a whisper. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore..."

"What're you talking about?"

Then the tears came and they couldn't be stopped.

* * *

He doesn't know why, but something told Stan, as he cried on the phone to Craig, to vomit up whatever mixture of pills he swallowed. So he dropped the device on his bed then ran over to the small trashcan residing next to his nightstand. With two fingers stuck as far as they could go down his throat, Stan gagged a couple time until eventually the bile rose. He continued the process so that he threw up at least three times and his throat was sore from the acid and his eyes were sore from crying so much.

By the time Stan picked up his phone again, Craig was heard yelling his name numerous times into the speaker.

"Can you come over?" Stan's voice was scratchy and raw and he regretted even speaking.

"Now?"

"...Yeah."

"All right. I'll be right over."

He heard a click on the other end. Stan dropped the phone onto the ground , sinking along with it and leaning against his bed, setting his head upon the mattress to wait for Craig to arrive.

* * *

Twenty Minutes. That's around how long ago Stan fell asleep on Craig's chest. The moment Craig broke into the Marsh residence with a key Stan had given him a while ago, and he entered Stan's bedroom, Craig was pulled down to sit next to him on the floor. On instinct, he wrapped his arms around the crying boy, taking in every sort of emotion that radiated off of him. He's never seen Stan this way - so fallen apart and emotional - that something within Craig made him want to be there for Stan. So he pulled the two of them onto the bed, with Stan resting his head on Craig's chest. Craig can recall Stan muttering something under his breath, but what exactly, he wasn't too sure on.

It worried him how easily Stan was knocked out, but also the fact that he was laying on him and his binder wasn't on. They never got too close when Craig wasn't wearing the garment.

He seemed to be on edge during majority of the night, trying to wrap his mind around whatever it was that was going on with Stan. It wasn't until he closed his eyes and fell asleep himself, that Craig became calm again.

* * *

By the time Stan woke up, school had ended hours ago, Craig was so longer in his bedroom and he had about seven calls from Kyle. It took him forever to finally call his friend back, and Kyle answered after the first ring.

"Omigod Stan, what the hell happened to you last night?!"

Ignoring Kyle's question all together, Stan asked his own. "Was Craig at school today?"

"What? Craig has nothing to do with this."

"Just answer the question."

Kyle sighed. "Yeah, and he was actually on something during sixth period. Seemed really off all together." Pause. "But that's besides the point. I want to know what happened last night! You just hung up after telling me to fuck off. You really _don't_ get how much I care about you, Stan."

"I'm going through a lot." It was a simple statement in which Stan's voice dropped when he said it. He messed around with a stray string on the bottom of his shirt, wrapping and unwrapping it around his finger.

"I know you are." A knock three times sounded in the distance on Kyle's end. "...Why won't you just let me in?"

Biting his lip, he sighed. "I..."

"You what?"

"I don't want you getting dragged in because none of this is essentially your fault Kyle, and I don't believe you deserve to be brought into whatever I'm going through."

"Stan... no it's not like th-"

Before Kyle could finish his sentence, Stan hung up. Then he threw his phone across the room and watched as it crashed into the wall, shattering the screen.

* * *

Thursday happened to be the day Stan went back to school. Wearing a plain red t-shirt, and sweatpants that didn't own any pockets, it was harder for him to carry any sort of medication on his person. Stan hasn't taken anything since Monday night. He's been too afraid to do so. Withdrawal was the hardest part of it all and on top of that, his disorders were acting up.

Now, Stan was sitting in a class he actually shared with Kyle. From the back of the room the noirette tried his hardest to pay attention to the discussion the class engaged in over the book they were reading. But quickly, his vision started to blotch, spots of black surfacing throughout the room. It didn't take long before he slumped forward onto the desk, causing just about the entire class to look back at Stan with hushed whispers and a few small screams from shock. He kept falling asleep more frequently and it didn't matter where Stan was at the time.

In the front of the room, the English teacher tried to get the class's attention back on her, she clapped her hands announcing the words, 'Up here.' And majority of the students turned back to her. All except Kyle.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, Stan didn't sit alone during lunch. At his usual table in the back of the cafeteria, he sat with a certain redhead directly across of him. Neither of the boys ate anything the school served that day, other than the bottled water Stan purchased from a vending machine. He couldn't stop shaking, and he set his head on the tabletop roughly, groaning as he did so.

"You look really rough today, Stan..."

Another groan sounded.

"And you fell asleep like twice in fourth period. Are you doing okay?"

Slowly raising his head, Stan squinted at Kyle trying to grasp an understanding as to why Kyle was still being fairly decent towards him.

"I stopped taking my meds."

"What! Why?"

"Because I fucked up the other night Kyle, and I need to get off them."

Kyle ran a hand through his mass of curls and sighed. "You can't function without them, Stanley."

There it was again - that feeling he got whenever Kyle used his full name. He dropped his eyes to stare at his hands, which were clenched in fists in his lap, and Stan tried his best not to breakdown at that moment. The shaking got worse and the nausea set in and before Stan could even register what was about to happen, he vomited straight into his lap.

* * *

A blanket was wrapped around his torso as he strided around Stan's room in nothing but a pair of black jeans and his usual soft, tan binder. Slowly Craig was beginning to grow more comfortable around Stan, and he thought it had to do with the fact that Stan was at such a vulnerable point right now. Ever since Monday night when Craig walked into the bedroom to find a crying Stan curled up on the ground, something within him churned...and to be completely honest, it scared Craig.

He paced back and forth, Stan's eyes never leaving Craig's figure as he did so. He imagined running his fingertips along Craig's sides, he had such a perfect hourglass shape and Stan rarely saw it. He wanted to very lightly, touch the skin on Craig's torso, just to touch it and state that he did. But Stan knew Craig still battled with dysphoria, which bothered Stan to know he was struggling with such.

"Do you mind getting in my coat pocket and grabbing me a lighter and a cigarette?"

Craig hadn't been smoking marijuana as much, in fact, he's hardly asked Stan for any Adderall or Xyrem. Lately, he's been spending all his money on a pack of menthol cigarettes, which he may as well go through in a day.

Reaching across his bed, Stan grabbed the leather jacket Craig came in and pulled out what the other asked from the front pocket, throwing the items to the boy still pacing around the room.

"Thanks." Bringing a death stick to his lips, Craig lit it up, breathing in the toxins. "... Do you maybe want to... I don't know. Talk about the other night?"

In a nonchalant manner, Stan leaned back on his mattress, arms behind his head. "Not really."

"Okay..."

* * *

One thing Stan avoided for the past few days were mirrors. Whenever he entered the restroom, he made a full attempt not to stare into a looking-glass. To him, they showed just how bad Stan appeared to the rest of the world... how broken down and miserable he's been. On one occurrence, right after waking up from a nap that was longer than the usual, Stan snuck a quick glance in the direction of the mirror that also served as the cabinet door. He immediately regretted it.

Stan didn't look the same. If anything, sick and depression definitely showed on his face, the way the bags under his eyes were so dark and sunken and the strands of his raven hair so greasy because Stan was too lazy to wash his hair whenever he took a shower. He regretted looking into the mirror but if anything - he regretted a lot from just the past few months.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, Wendy Testaburger called on a day when Stan hadn't attended school. When he answered, it was obvious two girls were on the other end, and even though the contact name stated 'Testaburger', it was Bebe Stevens' voice who spoke first.

"I need something from you, Stan."

Simple, straight to the point, and obnoxious in Stan's opinion. He pulled the phone away from his face so he could sigh without the girls being able to hear it. "Yeah? And what's that?"

"Adderall."

"How many times do I have to tell Wendy, because I know she's the one who wants it, that I'm not handing them out."

"We know you're not using."

"How so?

This time it was Wendy to speak. "You keep falling asleep in all your classes. Isn't Adderall supposed to help you with that?"

"I don't need this Wendy."

"Then lend some out to me tomorrow at school... I'll repay you."

"So will I!" Bebe chimed in. There was a light laugh afterwards, and it made Stan roll his eyes.

"No."

"Look." Bebe started. "I know Craig isn't giving you the needs you desire, Stan. He's _obviously_ too scared because he doesn't have the proper body. How long has it been since you had a nice fuck? Hmm, I know it's been quite so-"

"Shut up Bebe! You two are pissing me off. If you want the pills so fucking bad, take them. I'll give them to Craig and you can take them from him. Just shut the fuck up!"

And he hung up, setting his phone down next to him on the bed. Stan admired the many cracks that resembled a spider web winding throughout the screen. A headache was beginning to form, but just the idea of taking simple aspirin scared Stan.

* * *

Saturday night happened to be the one night Sharon Marsh was able to cook dinner for her family. She worked a lot of the time during the week, normally whenever she came home she would go straight to bed, the rest of her family having to survive however they could.

Stan sat at the kitchen table, trying as hard as he could to not doze off. Sharon didn't know a thing about what her son had been doing, she hardly even blinked an eye when she saw her son in the condition he's in, Sharon simply kissed the noirette on his cheek then asked him to help wash the dishes.

As the mother walked back and forth throughout the kitchen getting the supplies she needed for dinner, Stan stood in front of the sink still struggling to stay awake. Sharon didn't pay any attention to him - not until a porcelain plate crashed into the sink and her son harshly fell onto the floor.

* * *

By the time Stan woke up, he found he couldn't move and his sight blurred in his left eye. His muscles ached all around, but more importantly his head hurt the most from when it banged against the tile on the floor.

Sharon was seated right beside him, cross-legged and her head set in her hands.

"Mm."

Sharon shot up the moment she heard her son make a sound, hovering over him. Tears were visible in her eyes the same shade as her son's. "I couldn't find any of your medications, Stan. Why couldn't I find anything? What happened?" The more she spoke, the more tears she produced. It hurt Stan to see his mother cry the way she was. Very slowly, he rose to a sitting position, then set a hand on her shoulder.

"I..." He started. "I ran out of Xyrem awhile ago, and I gave the rest of my Adderall to a girl at school, Melatonin, I don't remember what happened to that one..."

"Why." Sharon whispered, the words hitting Stan harshly in the chest like blades.

"I almost overdosed the other night."

"Overdosed?!"

Taking his hand away from Sharon's shoulder, Stan shot up from the floor and began to exit the kitchen.

"I don't want to talk about this. I can't do this, Mom! I can't do it any longer!"

"What are you talking about Stanley?!" She called out, getting up to follow. "What the hell has been going on?"

"Just leave me alone! I don't want to talk about it."

Running up the staircase, he tripped on a step closer to the top, falling instantly. The moment he hit the steps, Stan collapsed on himself, tears forming and beginning to stroll down his cheeks. Everything around him was falling apart - including himself.


End file.
